


be healed

by nowrunalong



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: “Maybe,” Willow tries, “maybe we can spend more time together? Like we used to? I’ve missed you."What if Buffy and Willow had been the focus of S7? A season re-write, starting at the end of Same Time, Same Place.





	1. same time, same place

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter includes some dialogue from Same Time, Same Place.
> 
> More characters will be added to the tags as they are added to the story.
> 
> It's probably important to note that Spike is _not_ back in Sunnydale yet, and will not return til later in the season.

“Please stay,” Willow says, and Buffy can tell that she means it. “I missed you so much when I couldn’t find you.”

“We missed you, too. _I_ missed you,” Buffy amends.

And she finds that she _had_. Missed Willow. Willow who had thrown her across the room like she was little more than a toy. Willow who had skinned a man alive. Willow who had almost ended the world in order to end its grief. Her _own_ grief.

All those images, replaced now by the sight of Willow’s all-too-earnest face in front of her.

“I thought you were too tired,” Buffy says, when Willow closes her eyes again.

“It hurts too much not to try.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It just takes so much strength. I don’t have that much.”

Buffy swings her legs up onto the bed, mirroring Willow’s pose. She wants to help. She can do this for Willow.

She takes Willow’s hands in hers.

“I got so much strength, I’m giving it away.”

“Are you sure?” Willow asks hesitantly.

“Will it help?”

“Much,” Willow admits.

“Good,” Buffy says, and closes her eyes.

It feels nice, the meditating. Buffy can feel the energy flow from the core of her down her arms, through her fingertips. She can feel Willow, too, and that’s the strangest part. She’s opening herself up, accepting Buffy strength, but sending something back, through the link they’ve created in their entwined hands.

Gratitude. Gratitude for Buffy’s forgiveness. Gratitude for Buffy’s trust—because it takes an immense amount of trust to open herself up to Willow in this way, sharing the strength that is her birthright.

The link between them—Buffy thinks it feels like a tree. Each fingertip is a new branch, spiraling out into more branches and leaves and—and other stuff. Maybe bugs. Or maybe not. The point is, there are some parts of a tree that you can see just by looking at it—like the bark, and the branches, and the leaves. But there are layers inside, like how—when you cut a tree down? There are all those rings. And they tell you more about the tree than you’d know just by looking at it.

The longer they meditate, the longer Buffy feels like a cut-down tree. What can Willow see in her, besides her strength? She’s young, but she’s got a lot of… rings. And God, this is a silly simile, and can Willow feel her thinking it? Buffy suddenly feels like she can understand how her friends felt that day, years ago, when she could read their thoughts.

She wants to pull away, but she tightens her hold on Willow’s hands instead. She’s doing this for Willow. Willow is hurt. Willow needs her.

She wonders if Willow feels equally vulnerable, and finds herself pushing forward, just a little, just enough to get past the… leaves. ‘Cause the gratitude? That’s meant to be seen. Hence the leaf analogy. But there’s more to see. And Buffy shouldn’t, but—

But it isn’t hard to find. It’s been bubbling just under the surface for years, trying to break out, and it’s closer now than it’s ever been before.

Love.

Willow’s hands snap back, freeing themselves from Buffy’s grasp, and her eyes open wide.

“Buffy—”

“Will—”

“Buffy, I-I’m sorry—”

“Will—”

“You weren’t supposed to see—”

“Will! It’s _okay_.”

Willow frowns. “How can it be okay? Didn’t you—I-I mean, you did just see—? Didn’t you feel—? Or am I making things up? Buffy, am I being paranoid?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Willow says, relieved. “Forget I said anything, then.”

“I mean—yes, I felt what you thought I felt. But you’re being paranoid if you think it’s going to be a problem.” Buffy catches Willow’s hands again. “I love you too, Will.”

“I-I know. But this isn’t… this is different, Buffy. This… This isn’t friend-love.” She looks hopelessly at Buffy like she wishes she could melt away into the sheets.

“I know. I mean, I’ve wondered about it for a while.”

“You’ve wondered—about me? Oh, God, Buffy, I thought—I was trying to hide it, I swear.”

“No!” Buffy laughs. “I was wondering about me.”

“Okay. Not following.”

“I _love_ you,” Buffy repeats, and comprehension finally dawns in Willow’s eyes.

“Really?”

“ _Really_ really.”

“What does this mean?” Willow asks cautiously. “I mean, I can’t—you can’t… it’s too soon, Buffy, and—”

“I know. Tara.”

Willow nods.

_And Spike_ , Buffy doesn’t say aloud. She still can’t talk about it.

“Maybe,” Willow tries, “maybe we can spend more time together? Like we used to? I’ve missed you. And I don’t just mean this summer. Last year you were… and I was… I mean, we weren’t really—”

“There for each other,” Buffy finishes. “Yeah.”

“But I want to be! There for you, I mean.”

“Me, too.”

Willow smiles tentatively, and Buffy smiles back.

“Was that enough?” Buffy asks. “Does it still hurt? We stopped kinda suddenly.”

Willow shakes her head. “I’m okay. I just need to rest now.”

“Do you want me to—?”

“Go? No! What about spending more time together?”

Buffy grins. “Didn’t know you meant right now.”

“I do. I can’t—or, I don’t really want to be alone right now. A lot of the badness last year came from too much time spent alone. Also, from me. Guess it was there all along, and it just… needed a reason to come out.”

“Willow, you’re not a bad person.”

“Aren’t I? Buffy, I’ve caused so much harm.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Your mistakes don’t usually involve in the world nearly ending, though. And—and I tried to beat you up!”

“Don’t worry about me,” Buffy says. “I can take it. And you weren’t yourself. Budge over a bit, will you?”

Willow moves over on the bed and Buffy moves up to sit beside her, shoulder to shoulder.

“Even before that, though. Before I went all… dark and veiny. I hurt T-Tara, I… Buffy. I hurt her so bad. And you! I exiled you from heaven!”

“I’m getting over that,” Buffy says. “It’s okay, Will. It’s taken me some time, but I’m really glad you brought me back. I’m glad that I get to see you again, and Xander, and Giles, and everyone. And I’m glad that I get to watch Dawn grow up. I’m _glad_.”

“But you weren’t last year.”

“I am now. That’s what matters, okay? Last year was hard, but I got through it. And now you’re gonna make it through this one, and I’m gonna be there for you.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

Instead of arguing, Buffy puts her arm around Willow’s shoulders and pulls her close. Willow relaxes against her, head resting on Buffy’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Buffy says again.

“I love you, too.”

For a few minutes, the room is quiet, and Buffy thinks that Willow has fallen asleep, until—

“Buffy?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up? I hate waking up alone.”

“I promise,” Buffy says, and Willow smiles against her shoulder.


	2. help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some dialogue from the episode Help.

Buffy holds Willow for the duration of her nap. It’s evening by the time she wakes up, sleepy, in Buffy’s arms.

“How long was I out for?” she mumbles, her mouth near Buffy’s neck.

“Hmm?” Buffy says, distracted. “Oh. Um. A few hours. I gave Dawn some money to order pizza, if you want some. We could go downstairs, or, or I could bring some up here.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s no big.”

“Then—dinner in bed it is. You’ll sit with me, right?”

“’Course,” Buffy says, disentangling herself gently. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

—

“You have homework already?” Buffy asks, pausing to look over Dawn’s shoulder on her way to get plates from the cupboard. 

“We got homework on the very first day. Come on, Buffy. You’re not that old. You remember high school.”

“Kinda feels like a lifetime ago, actually.”

“Oh,” Dawn says, awkward. “Is that…? Is it ‘cause you died?”

“Hey. Don’t worry about it. Not the first time, remember?” Buffy ruffles Dawn’s hair, and Dawn squeaks.

“Don’t make dying jokes,” Dawn implores, after she’s recovered her composure. “I mean it, Buffy. If you die a third time, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Right,” Buffy says, zipping her lips with a finger. “Sorry. Hey, did you leave some pizza for Willow?”

“It’s in the box. How is she?”

“Better. I don’t know. I think she was hurting more yesterday than she was letting me see. But she’ll be okay. I’m gonna sit with her a while longer.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m nice.”

Buffy scoops pizza slices on two plates and kisses Dawn on the cheek.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah-huh,” Dawn says, but she smiles as she returns to her homework.

—

Buffy knocks on the door as she comes in with the pizza. Willow is sitting up again, the blankets pulled over her legs.

“Hey, Will. You okay? Need to meditate some more?”

“I’ll probably wait til tomorrow before trying again. Even with your help, it takes a lot of energy.”

Buffy settles down on the side of the bed and sits one of the plates on Willow’s lap. “Got it. I won’t be around much tomorrow, though, so you might be on your own.”

“I’ll be stronger after a proper sleep. It’s okay.”

There’s an awkward sort of silence, then.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Buffy asks, after a minute of putting entirely too much focus into eating.

“No,” Willow says honestly. “But I will be. I just—Buffy, I… I’m going to visit Tara’s grave tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t been yet, and I want to say hello. Or, whatever is it you say to… _Goddess_ , I don’t know.” Willow takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. “I’m so nervous, Buffy. What if she saw? What if she saw everything I did last year and she hates me now?”

“She could never hate you, Will. Even when you guys were broken-up, she missed you and she worried about you.”

“’Cause she’s nice, and ‘cause—‘cause I was in trouble! But this is different. Buffy, I was a monster. I _killed_ someone.”

“It’s complicated, Will, but I still love you, and Xander still loves you, and Tara will, too. I promise. Okay?”

Willow nods.

“Do you want me to come?” Buffy asks.

She doesn’t know what she’d do there, or what she’d say, but if Willow doesn’t want to be alone…

“It’s okay,” Willow says again. “I’m think I’m gonna go alone this time. Just ‘cause… ‘cause it’s the first time. But in the future… it’d be nice to have company. And I think that Tara would like it, too.”

“Did you… I mean, when I…” Buffy trails off awkwardly.

“A couple times,” Willow says, understanding. “We all went. Well, Giles didn’t. He just left, right after the funeral. He couldn’t deal. It was different with you, though.” Willow looks down at her hands: she has a white-knuckled grip on her plate. “I can never bring Tara back.”

“No,” Buffy agrees. She reaches out and wipes a tear from Willow’s cheek with her thumb. “She’s happy where she is, though. And she loves you. She will always love you.”

And then Willow’s head is in her lap, and she’s sobbing, and Buffy is running her hands through Willow’s hair.

Buffy doesn’t know what to say. Willow cries until she’s too exhausted to cry anymore, and after that, Buffy tucks her into bed.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” Willow says.

“I won’t,” Buffy says, and touches the side of her face. “I won’t.”

—

Buffy gets up before Willow does because she has to leave for school, but she leaves hot coffee and pancakes on the bedside table. They probably won’t be hot once Willow wakes up, but it’s the thought that counts. Right?

She’s nervous about her first day as a school counselor, but she feels somewhat calmer after having spent the night with Willow.

Buffy doesn’t like sleeping alone, either.

—

“How did it go?” Buffy and Willow ask simultaneously when they meet in the front hall.

Buffy laughs, and Willow can’t help but smile, too.

“It was good. It was—do you want to go first?” Buffy asks.

“No, I… it was good. I mean, not _good_ , but it was nice. To be near her. I brought Xander. Uh, to the cemetery. But I visited Tara on my own.”

“Xander? Is he here?”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

“Good. ‘Cause my day was kind of eventful, in that there were no events, and I’d like it to stay that way.”

“Was that code for something?”

“I think a girl’s in trouble.”

—

“Cassie’s records all show the same thing,” Buffy tells Willow and Xander. “Good grades, good kid, then all of a sudden not-so-good grades, absenteeism, comments about apathy and depression—”

“So,” Xander says, “the question is: what changed?”

“Right. If she did have some sort of psychic vision, that would explain it.”

“Do you really think this girl is some kind of precog?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says. “I told you about the shirt, right?”

“Buffy, you spilled a cup of coffee. I’m not saying you don’t have Slayer grace, but it’s not the first time.”

There’s nothing in her medical files, so Willow looks her up on the Internet. Hello, creepy poems.

“Okay, death is really on her brain,” Xander says, after Willow’s finished reading one of Cassie’s poems aloud.

“We all deal with death,” Dawn says.

_Don’t make dying jokes. I mean it, Buffy. If you die a third time, I’m gonna kill you._

Buffy gives Dawn a worried look, but she seems okay. Just weirdly deep and insightful.

“This girl isn’t just dealing. She’s giving death a long, sloppy word-kiss. She has a yen for the big dirt-nap.”

“I don’t know,” Willow says. “I mean, a lot of teens post some pretty angsty poetry on the Web. I mean, I even posted a melodramatic love poem or two back in the day.”

“Love poems?” Xander asks, perking up like a puppy.

“I’m over you now, sweetie.”

“Love poems!”

Buffy wonders vaguely if Willow had ever written any poems about her. Too soon to ask? Certainly not now, with Xander and Dawn in the room.

“Look, all I’m saying is that this is normal teen stuff.”

Dawn has a theory that Cassie’s friend Mike is the danger, but Buffy is more interested in Willow’s discovery that Cassie’s father is a violent drunk. Interested like, ‘let’s get on this right this second.’

“I have his address right… here. Got your keys?” she asks Xander.

“Yeah.”

“Will—you gonna be okay?”

“Sure. I’ve got Dawnie to keep me company.”

“Okay. We’ll be back later.”

—

Buffy spends the night with Willow again.

“Cassie’s dad was a bust,” she says. The lights are off, and she reaches for Willow’s hand in the dark. “And I don’t think Cassie is planning on committing suicide. She genuinely seems like she wants to live, but she’s still convinced that someone out there is gonna kill her.”

“That’s horrifying,” Willow says, squeezing Buffy’s fingers.

“I just—I never really get this kind of opportunity, you know? To help _before_ there’s a dead body. And now that I have the chance, I’m not sure that I can do it.”

“You can,” Willow says. “You will.”

—

“I think she was gonna die, no matter what, wasn’t she? Didn’t matter what you did,” Xander says.

“She just knew,” Buffy says quietly. “She was special. I failed her.”

“Uh-uh,” Dawn says. She’s crying. “No. You didn’t, ‘cause you tried. You listened, and you tried. She died ‘cause of her heart, not ‘cause of you. She was my friend because of you. I guess… sometimes you can’t help.”

“So what then?” Buffy asks. “What do you do when you know that? When you know that maybe you can’t help?”

She can’t remember the last time she’d felt this helpless.

Beside her on the couch, Willow’s hand finds hers again.


	3. selfless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters contains some dialogue from the episode Selfless.
> 
> This chapter is a little canon-heavy: the first few chapters will be, but some events will happen soon enough to help it deviate a little more from the story we already know.

“This is nice,” Willow says, meeting Buffy’s eyes. They’re lying face-to-face, noses inches apart. Willow’s hair is tousled and her eyes are sleepy and Buffy wants to kiss her.

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s been…”

_A long time sleeping alone._

Willow nods against her pillow.

Neither of them moves for a couple minutes, content to enjoy each other’s company, before Buffy sits up and stretches her arms.

“We should get you properly moved in here today.”

“You don’t mind? Uh, me taking over your old room?”

“Of course not. I missed having you around. So did Dawn. Besides,” she looks over at Willow with a little smile, “it’s kinda been my room again, too.”

“Ooh! We could share! No, wait,” Willow says, frowning. “How would we explain that in a non-gay way?”

“Kinda can’t,” Buffy agrees. She grins suddenly. “But I still wanna have a drawer of my stuff in here.”

“And again with the gay,” Willow smirks, sitting up next to Buffy. She hesitates. “ _Should_ we talk to Dawnie, though?”

“About what?”

“Well, she’s gonna start asking questions soon, or she’ll say something to Xander, and _he’ll_ start asking questions. Should we, you know… explain?”

Buffy looks crestfallen. “ _That’ll_ be an easy conversation.”

“Well, we don’t need to talk about it right away,” Willow says. “I’m just saying, it’s gonna come up, and when it does, I’m not sure what you’re gonna want to tell her. My injury’s almost healed. It’s not gonna be an excuse for much longer.”

“Yeah.”

Why can’t anything ever be simple? Why can’t you sleep with your best friend without people poking their noses into your business?

Buffy sighs.

“Dawn’s gonna be up soon; I’m doing toast and eggs. You want?”

“I’ll come. I can be your kitchen aid.” Willow grins at her, still with the bedhead and the rumpled pyjamas, and Buffy grins back, the tension in her body lessening immediately. People can ask what they like. She’s just grateful to have Willow back in her life.

—

After work, Xander helps Buffy and Dawn move Willow’s belongings into Buffy’s old bedroom.

“People may say something like, ‘My protein window closes in an hour’,” Dawn is telling Willow, when Buffy and Xander enter the room, loaded up with boxes. “Just nod and smile. Mm-hmm. Turns out it has something to do with fitness.”

“Have you talked to her lately?” Buffy asks Xander, setting down her boxes.

“Not since that night with the Gnarl demon. And that wasn’t exactly the ‘how have you been’ kind of talk. More of the ‘pierce its eye with something sharp’ kind of talking. I’m thinking I should call her.”

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Hopes?” Xander asks. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. There are no hopes Anya and I are done. I love being single. I’m a strong, successful male who is giddy at the thought of all the women I will no doubt be dating in the near future.”

“Strong, successful makes say ‘giddy’?” Buffy teases.

“I just worry about her, that’s all.”

“Anya?” Willow asks.

“Yeah, she seems so sad.”

“She should try acting like everybody else more,” Dawn suggests.

“Apparently it’s what all the kids are doing nowadays,” Willow says.

Buffy open a particularly heavy box to find that it’s full of spellbooks. “Well, I’m not sure I get the sad vibe, but there’s definitely a vengeance vibe worth worrying about. Will, d’you care where these go?”

“Oh, that?” Xander asks. “No, no. I don’t worry about that. She was hurt and she just turned back to what she knew when I—you know. But that’s not her anymore.”

“Just leave ‘em in the box,” Willow says. “I wanna re-order them.”

“I hope you’re right,” Buffy says to Xander, closing the box again.

“Well, she turned that worm guy back before any real damage happened, right? It’ll just take some time. I really think she’s coming around.”

—

After Xander goes home and Dawn turns to her homework, Buffy stays to help Willow unpack the rest of her things.

“What do you mean, re-ordering the books?” Buffy asks, poking the box of spellbooks again.

“Well, they’re alphabetical by author right now. But I wanna organize them by subject instead. Make it easier to find stuff.”

“Aren’t they all the same subject?”

“Sometimes I forget you don’t know about this stuff,” Willow says, grinning. “No. There are lots of different types of magic.”

“You could teach me,” Buffy suggests.

“You want to learn magic?”

“I-I dunno. Do you think it would help? With the Slayer stuff?”

“Sure,” Willow says. “It’s a lot different, though. You really have to hone a different part of yourself. And magic it—it’s dangerous.”

“You’re telling me about dangerous?” 

“I just mean that it’s easy to abuse.”

“So is any kind of power.”

Willow nods. “That’s true. Good point. I guess if you’d wanted to abuse your Slayer powers, you would’ve turned out like Faith.”

“And even she—she changed. You can always come back.”

“Yeah,” Willow agrees. But she doesn’t look convinced.

—

Buffy’s circus act is interrupted by her phone ringing, sending the cup of pencils she’d been balancing on her forehead tumbling all across her desk.

“Hello? Willow, hey! Is everything—?”

“No,” Willow says, on the other end of the phone. “There this—there’s this spider demon, it—”

“A spider demon?”

“Buffy, it killed so many people.”

“Wh—h-hold on. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But it was like—”

“Like what?” Buffy grabs a pen and a paper. “Okay, go ahead.”

“At the Gamma Kappa Tau house. There are a bunch of dead frat guys. Buffy, their _hearts_ were ripped out. The demon escaped through the window, but it’s still out there, and it’s dangerous. Do you want me to go after it?”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Buffy says quickly. “It’s all good. I’ll get Xander to go. But seriously, you just—”

“I’m okay,” Willow says again. “But, Buffy. I have to tell you something else.”

“What?” Buffy asks. Willow sounds serious.

“Um. Nevermind. It’s not urgent. I’ll tell you later. You have work to do.”

“Okay,” Buffy agrees, frowning. “Hey, did you get that physics class you wanted?”

—

It was Anya who summoned the demons, Willow tells them.

“When were you planning on telling us?” Xander asks.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Great. Thank you. Willow, it’s Anya. How could you let us—How could you not have told us?”

“Xander…” Buffy says.

“How could you not have told _me_?”

“Xander,” Buffy says. “It’s okay. She didn’t tell us for a reason. She didn’t tell us because she knows what I have to do.” She pauses. “I have to kill Anya. She’s not the Anya that you knew, Xander. She’s a demon.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to kill her!”

“Don’t act like this is easy for me. You know it’s not.”

“There are other options.”

“I’ve considered them.”

“When? Just now? Took you all of ten seconds to decide to kill one of your best friends?”

“The thought that it might come to this has occurred to me before,” Buffy says. “It’s occurred to you, too.”

“But we can change what she did. Fix it. These are mystical deaths, right? There has to be something.” Xander looks desperately to Willow for help, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t have anywhere near that kind of power. I didn’t have that kind of power when—And I-I don’t think I trust the power I _do_ have.”

Buffy touches Willow’s shoulder briefly. “It’s okay, Will.” She turns to Xander. “Xander, I know this is hard for you to hear, but it’s what I have to do.”

“Hard for me to hear?! Buffy, you wanna kill Anya!”

“I don’t _want_ to.”

“Then don’t! This isn’t new ground for us. When our friends go all crazy and start killing people, we help them.”

“Sitting right here!” Willow says.

“I’m sorry. But it’s true.”

“It’s different,” Buffy says. Because it is. Because Willow is human. Because Anya is a demon. Because if she keeps her vengeance gig, more people will get hurt. Because not every spell can be undone.

There are always limits. There are always laws.

_Human rules don’t apply. There’s only me. I am the law._

—

The dinner table at 1630 Revello Drive is quiet that night.

“Is… is Anya gonna be okay?” Dawn asks, after pushing her fries around on her plate for ten minutes without eating any of them.

“I think so,” Buffy says. She doesn’t have much else to add. It’s not every day you try to kill one of your friends. Not even in Buffy’s line of work.

“And—and Xander?”

“He will be.”

Dawn dumps a pile of salt on her plate and rolls her fries through it one-by-one, thinking.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to kill her. Anya. I’d miss her.”

“Me too.”

“And—and you were right, Buffy,” Willow says. “About what you said earlier.”

“I was? When I said, uh… What did I say?”

“When you said that you can always come back. Anya became a _demon_ again, but she still made the right choice today. “

Dawn gets up, dumps her fries in the garbage, and adds her plate to the pile of dishes on the counter. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. See you guys in the morning.”

“’Night, Dawnie,” Willow says softly.

“What were you gonna tell me earlier?” Buffy asks Willow, after Dawn’s bedroom door has closed upstairs. “It sounded important.”

“Oh, that. It—it’s not. It wasn’t. It’s, um. It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Well,” Willow says, “It’s just… I had to use a spell. To make the demon leave. And it was really strong, so it—it needed a lot of strength. And I kind of lost it. Just for a moment, but enough that it scared me, Buffy. _I_ scared me.”

“Willow,” Buffy says, reaching out to cover Willow’s hand with her own where it rests on the dinner table. “I know you. You’re a good person.”

“I’m scared, Buffy. I’m scared of getting lost again.”

“You won’t, okay? You won’t. You’ll always come back.”


	4. her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dialogue from the episode Him.
> 
> For the record, this episode is not one of my favourites. Hence the plot change-iness. Hope you enjoy this version!
> 
> A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little choppy! If things that get brought up here feel like they're not getting the proper attention... don't worry. They will come up again in later conversations!

“I do know him. I know his _soul_.”

“Really? Dawn, he wasn’t even on your radar yesterday.”

“It’s the jacket,” Xander says. “It’s true. Something about the big letter on the chest makes girls get all swoony and crushy. I saw it all the time in school. And you couldn’t just pin any old felt letter to your coat and get play—uh. Not that I tried.”

Buffy rolls her eyes.

“It isn’t a crush,” Dawn insists. “It’s love. I _love_ R.J.”

“Again, since yesterday,” Buffy says. “Dawn, it’s awfully fast.”

“What? You’re telling me I don’t feel what I feel?!” Dawn says angrily. “Sometimes love _is_ fast. It was fast with you and Angel! Like—hey, this big, broody guy _stalked_ me on the way to the club. I think it’s true love!”

“It wasn’t—” Buffy starts, but there’s no sense arguing when Dawn’s worked up like this. “Sometimes it is fast. You’re right. But not this fast. And—and sometimes it’s slow! Sometimes it’s very… very, very slow.” _Very, very, very._

“What? Like you and Spike?”

“I didn’t—no, that’s _not_ —that’s _so_ not what I was talking about.”

Dawn shrugs and turns away. “You know what? Maybe I don’t want advice from the Dysfunction Queen. You have no idea how I feel. You have no idea what real love is. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t make fun of me this way.”

_Ouch._

“Dawn, I’m not making fun of you.”

“Just go. Leave me alone.”

—

Buffy spots R.J. the next night at the Bronze—piecing together memories of recent football practices with Dawn’s given description: “the smartest, funniest, coolest, hottest, and having the thickest boy eyelashes boy.”

“He don’t seem so tough,” Xander comments.

“Check out the fan club,” Willow says, with interest.

“Daddy _like_.”

Buffy shoots a look at both Willow and Xander, and then turns her attention to the girl dancing with R.J.

“What is that shirt made of? Paint?” It’s awful. It’s little and skanky and Buffy would never be caught dead in—

“Buff—“ Willow says, eyes wide.

“Hmm? Glad Dawnie isn’t here to see her precious boyfriend getting all thrusty with oh my _God_ that’s Dawn.”

“Oh,” Xander says, mortified. “Oh! No ‘Daddy’, no, I wasn’t—when I was looking, I wasn’t—oh, God!”

Willow leans over to Xander. “Right there with ya.”

“Was I like this when I was younger? God, I may have been sneaking out, but I had to _save the world_.”

“There was also the matter of Angel,” Xander comments.

“He was helping with the world-saving!” Buffy says defensively. “Also—okay, you may have a teensy point, but I didn’t dress like… like _that_.”

“You’re not going over there right now, are you?” Willow asks.

“No,” Buffy says, deflating. “I’ll let her finish her dance… if you can call _that_ dancing. But as soon as she steps off that dance floor… ”

—

Buffy’s break comes sooner than anticipated.

“They’re clearing a space on the dance floor,” Willow says. “Buffy, it’s R.J. and Dawn!”

It’s R.J., specifically. The guy is… _breakdancing?_

_Badly._

“He’s going to get himself hurt,” Buffy says, people-saving instincts tingling as R.J. spins on his head.

On the dance floor, Dawn claps her hands over her mouth.

“He’s going to fall on his having-the-thickest-boy-eyelashes face.”

“Aren’t you gonna do something, Buff?” Xander asks.

“Do what? Unleash Dawn’s inner axe murderer?”

“You guys don’t even have an axe,” Xander says. “I know because I had to fix that—oh… You’ve got all those battle-axes, though. You might unleash Dawn’s inner battle-axe murderer.”

R.J. falls on his back, and the crowd cheers.

“Barbarians.”

—

“It’s good that R.J. was okay,” Willow says.

She and Buffy are lying face-to-face again. Buffy can feel Willow’s breath against her skin when she speaks.

“He wasn’t really in danger. He was just making a fool of himself. Thought he could impress her or something. Dawn’s sorta wondering what she ever saw in him, which is a good. Hopefully it’ll be another sixteen years before she sneaks out in an outfit like _that_ again.”

Willow smiles against her pillow.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

Buffy rolls onto her back, awkward. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“Just… Dawn said something that kind of got to me.”

“When you were fighting? Buffy, she was just lashing out because she was upset.”

“I know. But she said—she said I have no idea what real love is. What if she’s right? I mean, there was Angel, who couldn’t sleep with me without going evil. There was Riley, and—and I held back with him. I didn’t love him like he deserved. And then there was Spike, and God, I still don’t even know what _that_ was.”

“Just because your relationships were complicated doesn’t mean they weren’t real.”

“After a certain level of ‘complicated’… doesn’t it?”

“No. Of _course_ not. You know what love is, Buffy. Real love. And besides, you’re the only one who can decide if it’s real or not. You’re the only one who knows how you feel.”

Buffy rolls back over to meet Willow’s eyes. Willow is looking back at her with such a soft expression—it’s care, and concern, and tenderness. Buffy loves her so much.

“You’re right,” she agrees.

She _does_ know.

—

“Dawn,” Buffy says, once Dawn’s through the front door. “You wanna come hang out with us?”

“Us?” Dawn says suspiciously. “Us who?”

Buffy’s sitting on the couch with Willow and Anya.

“Uh—okay?” Dawn says, sitting down across from them. “What’s going on?”

“I talked to R.J. today,” Buffy says.

“Oh my God,” Dawn says, outraged. “You did not. _Tell_ me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t stage an _intervention_ because I went on _one_ date with a boy that I’m not even gonna see again!!”

“Relax, Dawnie. This isn’t an intervention.”

“It’s a girls’ night!” Anya says happily.

“Um?”

“I’ve been feeling lately like we haven’t been spending enough time together. _Quality_ time. And maybe… because of that… you feel like you can’t trust me. So you go and do things like… dancing. Half naked. With a boy you met two days ago.”

“You sure this isn’t an intervention?” Dawn says, crossing her arms over the pendant she’s wearing. “Really kinda feels like one.”

“We’re telling you this with love,” Willow says, “because we want you to feel like you can come to us about stuff like this.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I don’t care if you feel like you can come to me about stuff,” Anya adds, ever helpful.

“Thanks,” Dawn says. “Kinda knew that.”

Buffy frowns. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Dawn is supposed to feel loved. Supported. _Appreciated._

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, standing up.

“I’m fine.”

“I’d have a drink,” Anya says.

“I was asking _Dawn_.”

“Dawn,” Anya says, “are you sure you don’t want a drink? I know where Buffy hides the whiskey.”

“Anya!”

“What? I want Dawn to be happy. She’ll be happy if she has some whiskey.” She frowns. “Unless she’s an angry drunk. Scratch the whiskey. Better not risk it.”

“I could make you brownies,” Willow suggests.

“I’ll take you shopping!” Buffy says.

Dawn looks from Anya, to Willow, to Buffy. “What’s going on, guys? I mean, I’m feelin’ the love now, but I thought I was in trouble.”

“You could never be in trouble, Dawnie,” Willow says reassuringly.

Buffy frowns at her. “Hey. I’m her sister. I’m the one who gets to decide if she’s in trouble.” She turns to Dawn. “Don’t worry. You could _never_ be in trouble.”

“Great!” Dawn says. “Does this mean we can get rid of my curfew? I mean, come on. What year is it?”

“No curfew!” Willow announces. “If you want to stay out all night—who are we to stop you?”

“You’re doing it again,” Buffy says. “Talking like you’re Dawn’s family.”

“Well—I am! I’ve been her guardian since you went and _died_!”

“Guardian, shmardian,” Anya says. “You guys are gonna have to do better than that. I’d kill for her.”

Willow scoffs. “You’d kill for a chocolate bar.”

“No. Yes!” Buffy says excitedly. “Kill for her. I’m the Slayer. Slayer means kill. Oh! I’ll kill the principal! Dawnie will never be in trouble again.”

“Ooh, that is hard to top,” Anya says.

“Yeah, well,” Willow says. “I have skills. I can prove my love with magic.”

“Yeah, right,” Anya says. “What’re you gonna do—use magic to make Dawn _your_ sister?”

Willow’s eyes widen, sparking with ideas.

“Damn.”

“Uh. Guys?” Dawn says nervously. “You don’t really have to do all this, you know. I was cool with brownies and shopping.”

But they’re already leaving—Willow heading upstairs, and Buffy and Anya heading out the front door.

“ _Damn_.”

—

“Xander!” Buffy says, running after him, slowed down by one of Willow’s spells. “Give that back!”

“Nope!” Xander calls back, bazooka tucked under his arm. “No way. No how. Willow? What are you doing?”

“Locator spell. Looking for Dawn. Almost done.”

“Well, I’ve got a principal to kill,” Buffy says, antsy. “Hurry up, will you?”

—

They find Dawn in the park. She looks relieved to see them.

_Relieved to see me_ , Buffy thinks. _‘Cause she loves me the most._

“You guys have to stop this right now,” Dawn says. “You’re acting crazy!”

“We just need you to know how much we care for you, Dawnie,” Willow says.

“I know, okay! You care! I got it! Buffy, stop making eyes at that bazooka! You guys are under some kind of a spell, okay? Willow, I need your help to reverse it.”

But Willow’s not listening. “Did you hear that?” she says to Buffy. “You’re under some kinda spell that’s making you act crazy.”

“Nuh-uh,” Xander says, pointing at Willow. “When I answered the call of Dawn, she told me she interrupted you doing some kind of spell that would have the monks make Dawn your sister instead of Buffy’s sister. Did you even think about what that would mean?”

“That Dawn would love me. And that she would always know that I love her the most.”

“More crazy-talk! Dawn loves us all! Except she loves me the most.” Xander turns to Dawn. “You want my jacket? It’s getting kind of cold out.”

“Oh my God, not you, too! Oh. Oh no,” Dawn says, looking down.

“What is it, Dawnie?” Buffy asks.

“My necklace.”

“It’s beautiful. You can have more of them, if you like.”

“I don’t _want_ more!” There are tears in Dawn’s eyes now. “I just wanted R.J. to like me. And then you guys were being so nice, I thought—but it’s fake. _Obviously_ it’s fake. God, I’m such an idiot.” She reaches around to the back of her neck and undoes the clasp, letting the necklace fall to the ground.

“Dawn?”

“Happy now? You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me anymore.”

Dawn turns and runs off toward the house.

“Dawn!” Buffy calls, and takes off after her, bazooka all but forgotten.

—

“I can’t believe I almost—” Buffy and Willow say simultaneously, exchanging looks and almost laughing.

“It was a spell,” Anya says. “You were helpless. We’re not responsible for anything we did morally or, you know, legally…”

“True,” Xander agrees. “You fell for a mystical, ancient curse. Who hasn’t made that mistake seven, eight times?”

Buffy puts her arm around Dawn on the couch, and Willow does the same from the other side.

“You hear that? Not your fault.”

“I just can’t believe I put it on. Janice told me it would make any boy care about me. It’s been passed down in her family for generations, but they never wear it ‘cause it’s supposed to be cursed.”

“So Janice has never worn it?”

“She thinks it’s ugly.”

“Ah,” Xander says. “Of course. Good fashion trumps wanting boys to like you.”

“You know,” Buffy says, as Anya passes around the plate of brownies, “I planned the girls night before I was under the spell.” She frowns. “I think.”

“Really?”

“Really-really. I want us to spend more time together. As a family. You and me, and Willow.”

“Hey!” Xander says.

“And Xander, and Anya,” Buffy amends.

“Hey Anya,” Willow says, “you never old us what you can’t believe you almost.”

“Almost who, now?” Anya says, feigning innocence.

“No, you can’t be the only not-embarrassed one. What did you do?”

“I, uh. Wrote a poem. And epic poem… comparing Dawn to a daisy, and a tower, and a lake.”

“ _And now the latest on Sunnydale’s late-night bandit, who is still at large_ ,” the radio announcer says, as the music cuts out. “ _A masked thief held up a number of jewelry stores—_ ”

Anya shuts the radio off with a large grin. “Dawn? You want ice cream? My treat.”


	5. conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dialogue from the episode Conversations With Dead People.
> 
> Because this fic is from Buffy's POV, her conversation is the only one I fic-ified. Assume Willow and Dawn's evenings went along the same lines as canon. Buffy's convo starts off the same, but deviates where the canon convo topic switches to Spike, due to his absence here.

“Buffy? Buffy Summers?” asks the vampire, uncomfortably close to her throat.

“Have we—?”

“Oh, uh. Webs? Holden Webster. We went to school together. European History. I let you crib off my Vaclav Havel essay that time. You—you really don’t remember me?”

“Sure!” Buffy says, not remembering at all. “Sure.”

—

“Whoa. Did my face just change?” Holden asks, as his face switches from vamp to his normal visage.

“Yeah. You look human now. You can do that—go back and forth.”

Is it weird that she’s teaching him this? Buffy shrugs. Whatever. It’s nice, the talking.

“So I’m a vampire,” Holden laughs. “How weird is that?”

“Sorry,” Buffy says, meaning it.

“No, no. Feels great. Strong. Like I’m connected to a powerful, all-consuming evil that’s gonna suck the world into a fiery oblivion. How ‘bout you?”

“Not so much connected,” Buffy says, getting up from the gravestone she’d been resting against and walking away.

“No, no,” Holden says, as he follows. “I mean, with the stake and the cross—you do this kind of thing a lot?”

“I’m the Slayer. It’s sort of a thing.”

“’The’, like as in ‘the only one’?”

Buffy thinks about Faith, living it up in prison.

“Pretty much.”

“Oh. So, when you said ‘not connected,’ that was kind of a telling statement, wasn’t it?”

Buffy stops and puts her hands on her hips. “Psych 101 alert.”

“Well, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, what I really need is emotional therapy from the evil dead.”

“Hey, it was your phrase,” Holden says.

“I’m connected,” Buffy says defensively. “I’m connected to a lot of people, okay?”

“No. No, I hear ya.”

“I really am.”

—

“So, you meet someone, you form a bond…”

“But it never lasts.”

“Do you mean in all relationships, or just yours?” Holden asks.

“My parent weren’t exactly the paragon of stay-togethery-ness. Maybe that’s part of it. I think there are people out there who’d make it.”

_They must exist, right? Willow’s relationships involved Oz leaving town, and Tara dying, and Xander left Anya at the alter and… back to the present, Buffy._

“I just… target the impossible ones… with deadly accuracy.”

“You think you do that on purpose?” Holden asks. “Maybe you’re trying to protect yourself?”

_What?_

“Protecting myself? From heartbreak, misery, sexual violence, and possible death? Not so much.”

“From committing.”

_Hey._

“I commit. I’m committed. I’m a committee.”

“So it’s them? You’re reaching out, and they’re just not coming through?”

“It’s different,” Buffy says, frowning. “I think you’re confusing me because you’re evil.”

“I just think you’re in some pain here—which I do kind of enjoy ‘cause I’m evil now—but you should just ease up on yourself. It’s not exactly like you have the patent on bad relationships.”

“Wouldn’t it be cool if I did?” Buffy muses.

—

“Answer me this: whose fault was your parents’ divorce?”

“Okay, you know, this is beyond evil,” Buffy says, rolling her eyes. “This is insane troll logic. What do my parents have to do with—?”

“I’m just curious,” Holden says. “Your opinion.”

“They both have a lot of—”

“Off the top of your head.”

“My dad,” Buffy says regretfully.

“Uh-huh.”

“He cheated. Um. I think he cheated.”

“So, of all these relationships of yours—that you knew subconsciously were totally doomed—whose fault is that?”

“It’s incredibly different.”

“I was just wondering—is it possible, even a little bit, that the reason you have trouble connecting to people is because you think maybe they’re not worth it? Maybe you think you’re better than them.”

Buffy glares at him. “Say, there’s that bloodlust I’ve been looking for.”

—

“So you’re not in a relationship right now, are you?” Holden asks.

Buffy stops mid-pace to look him in the eye, wary. “You’re not asking me out, are you? ‘Cause I’ve been there, and I’ve done that, and I am _not_ looking to do _that_ again, believe me.”

“Hey now,” Holden laughs, “I was just asking. Hey,” he adds, “by done that—”

“I don’t wanna talk about—”

“—you mean dated a _vampire_ , don’t you?”

“Say, this is getting boring, don’t you think? What do you say to a little fighting-to-the-death instead?”

“No, no, it’s cool. I mean, yeah, let’s do it. But hold off on the pointy sticks for a few minutes, okay? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just think it’s ironic, you know? Your destiny is to slay vampires, but you end up loving one instead.”

“Tell me about it,” Buffy sighs. And then narrows her eyes. “Don’t actually. I know, okay? It’s freaky. _I’m_ freaky. Point taken.”

“Not arguing,” Holden says. “But back to you and singledom. Is there no one in the picture, or are you avoiding a relationship because you’re afraid it will end like all of your others?”

“There are issues of… timing.”

“Timing?”

“Well. Okay. Say there is someone. Say that her last relationship ended in her girlfriend getting shot in front of her face and then her going all evil and fighting me and almost winning and then trying to end the world and all its suffering and oh God how are things ever gonna be normal between us?” Buffy sits down and puts her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair.

Holden sits down next to her.

“Does she know how you feel?”

“Yeah. I think so. I mean, I told her. And we’ve been sleeping together.”

Holden raises an eyebrow.

“Oh! No!” Buffy says, realizes the double meaning. “Not like—I just mean, I’ve been staying over in her room, because we’ve both been lonely.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And there is definitely no issue of—I mean, we love each other. And she’s wonderful and, and powerful—not that that’s something that I look for, but in terms of the superiority complex thing, and—that doesn’t make things easy, y’know, just because someone loves you doesn’t mean that things will work out because, sometimes they leave you, or, or try to hurt you, or sometimes you make mistakes, or—”

“Buffy,” Holden interrupts, and Buffy looks up at him with teary eyes. “You love this girl. Right?”

“Right.”

“And she loves you.”

“I think so. I-I mean—I felt it.”

“You felt it?”

“When we were meditating together.”

“Sounds… intense.”

“It was,” Buffy admits. “But it’s still… it’s complicated. Because we’re both getting out of… and because of last year… and besides, we’ve been best friends for _six years_. I couldn’t… I can’t lose her.”

“So you _are_ afraid this relationship will end like your others.”

“Well, I—I have valid reasons!” Buffy says defensively. “All of my relationships have ended with guys leaving town, or, or leaving the country, or refusing to take no for an answer and then leaving the country, so—yeah. I am afraid. Okay? Is that what you’re looking to hear?”

“I’m not looking to hear anything, Buffy. But I gotta admit—I’m kind of surprised you were able to admit it. What are you more afraid of, though: losing her, or waiting too long?”

“Losing her,” Buffy says immediately. “That’s easy. I’ve loved her for years. Um. I think, anyway. Like I said: it’s complicated. I’m not really sure when friend-love turned into love-love. Anyway, we’re both okay with waiting, ‘cause… ‘Cause it’s not like she’s gonna find someone else and suddenly be ready to move on. Right?” She’s a little worried all of a sudden.

“No, you’re probably right. Still, it’s fun to instill a little fear in you,” Holden says, smiling.

“Evil.”

“It’s my calling now.”

“Right,” Buffy says. “Back to what you said before. You said… you said that I was afraid of committing.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Hold on, alright? ‘Cause—maybe I was before. I mean. Maybe I was. With Riley. But not this time. This is different than any other time. Because I’ve already loved her for six years. And I don’t want to lose her. I’d do anything not to lose her. I want her in my life. The _rest_ of my life.”

“Sounds pretty serious.”

“It is. It is! Very serious. And—I’ve felt like before. About my first boyfriend. I wanted to spend the life of my life with him. But… but I didn’t know what that meant, then. And I think I do now. Does that make sense?”

“Sure. It means you’ve gotten older.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. What do we know when we’re sixteen? We don’t know how to plan ahead. We don’t think about the future. But when we _can_ think about that—we’ve gotten older. Of course,” he grins, “only one of us is gonna get older.”

“Did you mean me, ‘cause I’m a human, or me, ‘cause I’m gonna kill you?”

“I meant me, ‘cause _I’m_ gonna kill you, but the human-versus-vamp ageing thing is a valid point, too.”

“Right.”

“So, you’re ready to commit, but neither of you is ready for a relationship. That’s a bit of a pickle.”

“I mean—we have a relationship. We live together. We share a room—sort of. And we both look after my sister, Dawn. We—oh my God.”

“What?”

“The spell. There was a spell. It made me say things like—God, I need to talk to Willow.”

“Things like what?” Holden asks.

“Like that she wasn’t really Dawn’s family. Even though she… What if she thinks I really believe that?”

“Do you?”

“No! No, of _course_ not! She’s a huge part of Dawn’s life. Of _my_ life.”

“Then you better tell her,” Holden says, shifting into vamp face.

It’s exactly the wrong time to pick a fight.


	6. it devours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dialogue from the episode Sleeper.
> 
> Pardon the angst! Had to happen sometime!!

“Willow?” Buffy calls, starting up the stairs as soon as she’s through the front doors.

“Here,” Willow says from the living room. “I’m with Dawn.”

“Dawn?” _Why isn’t Dawn in bed?_ “Oh my God,” Buffy says, seeing the destruction. Amidst it, Dawn sits on the floor, hugging a pillow to her chest. Willow is kneeling beside her. “What’re you—Dawn, what happened here?”

“You’re cut,” Willow says worriedly.

“I’m alright,” Dawn answers.

She doesn’t sound alright.

“Let me see, make sure,” Willow says, turning Dawn’s face gently with her fingers to inspect it while Buffy kneels down on her other side.

“I saw Mom.”

_Oh my God._

“What?”

“She was here. I saw her. She was here, and she spoke to me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Willow says.

“No, she was right here, and—and then she wasn’t. She—”

“It wasn’t her,” Willow says.

“What?” Dawn asks, echoing Buffy’s own thoughts.

“At least, I don’t think. I-I saw something too, and it looked like… someone else, but it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean, Will?” Buffy asks, frowning.

“It’s the Big Bad. The one we knew was coming.”

_From beneath you, it devours._

“But—that’s what she said. Mom, she said that things were coming, that things were on their way, and—that she loves us. So, it had to be her, right? I mean, her warning was true.”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t think we can trust anything right now.”

“So… maybe the evil thing messing with you was here, too. Only maybe it was the thing trying to keep Mom away. ‘Cause she was trying to protect me. Maybe.”

Buffy would love to believe it. She would. Really. But they live on a Hellmouth, and she’d learned long ago that if things seem too good to be true, then they probably are.

She and Willow exchange a look: having the same doubts, but agreeing that now probably isn’t the best time to discuss this.

“Come on,” Buffy says to Dawn. “Let’s get you to bed.”

It’s a testament to Dawn’s exhaustion that she doesn’t put up even a bit of a fight, allowing Buffy to lead her up the stairs, her arm around Dawn’s shoulders. Willow follows them up a few minutes with a cup of hot chocolate, which she sets on Dawn’s bedside table.

“Are you gonna be okay, sweetie?” Willow asks. “Do you want us to stay with you?”

“No,” Dawn mumbles. “I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Buffy asks, sitting down next to Dawn on the bed.

Dawn nods.

“Okay. Just call if you need me.” Buffy leans down to kiss Dawn on the forehead and then stands up.

“Goodnight, Dawnie,” Willow says. “Sweet dreams, okay?”

Buffy and Willow close the door behind them and meet each other’s eyes again: worried.

—

“This big evil that’s been promising to devour us,” Willow says at the kitchen table, “well, I think it’s started chomping.”

“And it started with Dawn.”

“Both of us. Buffy, this thing _knows_ us. It made us think that we were talking to people we knew. Mine said it came with a message from Tara. But Dawn actually saw… your mother. This thing—it had me for a while. I mean—before it started letting loose with the pulse-pounding terror. But before that, the lies were very convincing. It just seems real.”

“Oh my God, Will… _Tara_. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I mean, I have to admit—it really got my hopes up. I really thought it was her. You know? But then it started saying things… it…” Willow shakes her head. “And then it transformed; it was awful.”

“Speaking of awful,” Buffy says, “I have to talk to you about something.”

Willow frowns, concerned. “What is it? Did you see something, too?”

“Not as such,” Buffy shrugs. “Had a talk with a vamp—do you remember Holden Webster from European History?”

“Oh, no—he died?”

“Yep. Dead and dusted. Anyway, he kinda reminded me of something.” Buffy turns to Willow with wide eyes. “Will. You know how much I appreciate what you do for me and Dawn, right?”

“I—I think so?”

“Because I do. Appreciate you. Lots, even! I’m so grateful that you and Tara took care of Dawn after I died. I know Dawn means a lot to you, and that you mean a lot to her— _and_ to me—and I’m glad you’re around, and I don’t wanna be a single mom, and now I’m not, and I’m glad about that, too, and—I love you.” Buffy takes a deep breath. “I need to tell you that more often.”

“Buffy,” Willow says, taking her hands. “I love you, too. And I’m glad I’m not… not over-stepping some kind of family boundaries, ‘cause I was a little worried, and—”

“No!” Buffy says. “You’re _not_ over-stepping.”

Willow smiles gratefully. “It’s just—helping to look after Dawn makes me feel like… like I matter. You know? That I’m helping to bring something good into this world. Instead of—of evil, and destruction, and bad things.”

“I know,” Buffy says.

“And besides—I worry about her.”

“Me too.”

They smile at each other, understanding.

“I should sleep,” Willow says, letting go of Buffy’s hands. “The whole encounter with _not_ -my-dead-girlfriend has me feeling kinda pooped.”

“You want me to bring you anything?” Buffy asks.

“Tea?”

“One tea, comin’ up,” Buffy says. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Buffy,” Willow says. She hesitates for a moment. “You’ll stay with me again tonight?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “’Course I will.”

—

Willow’s talking to herself when Buffy goes up the stairs.

“Don’t leave me,” she’s saying. “God, please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do if you ever… I can’t be alone. I can’t do it anymore.”

Buffy freezes on the top step.

_Tara?_

_‘What are you more afraid of: losing her, or waiting too long?’_

Does it matter? How can she ever hope to compete with a ghost?

Buffy leaves the tea on the bathroom counter and curls up in her own bed, feeling more alone than she has in weeks.

—

She wakes in the middle of the night with the strangest feeling that something is wrong.

_Dawn!_

Buffy checks on Dawn, but she’s sound asleep in her bed. Buffy stands at the door for a minute til she’s convinced that nothing bad is about to happen here.

_Willow?_

She checks on Willow, too, but—

_Willow’s gone._

—

There’s a short note on her pillow that looks like it was scrawled in a hurry.

_“Gone to Sunnydale Cemetery. Love, Willow.”_

—

Buffy’s thoughts are racing as she runs. She’d never actually found out what not-Tara had said to Willow. What if it had put crazy thoughts in her head? What if it had convinced Willow that she should kill herself so that she could be with _Tara_ again? 

The cemetery is coming into sight, and then Buffy is over the gate, and Willow, Willow, _Willow, where are you?!_

“Willow!” Buffy calls desperately. “Willow!”

“Buffy?” Willow says. She sounds confused.

Her eyes are black.

“Will!” Buffy stops in her tracks, afraid. “Will, what are you—why do you have a shovel?”

Willow smiles. “That’s a good question. I don’t actually need it. I just thought, you know, that I should do this the old-fashioned way. For you. But—to hell with it.”

She lifts her arms and a six-foot mound of soil is hauled out of the cemetery ground. Willow drops it next to the hole she’d created, and Buffy sees the headstone at the end.

It’s her own.

“Did you know that your coffin is still down there?” Willow says conversationally. “No one thought to dig it up, or move the headstone. _Here lies Buffy._ Forever. Even as she walks, and talks.”

“Will,” Buffy says. “What are you doing?”

“Putting you back in the ground.” Willow frowns. “Why are you asking? You wanted this. And how’d you get from there,” she points to a spot behind the headstone, “to there? You were there, and now you’re _there_!”

“I wasn’t. And—what are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Willow says, and the tenderness in her voice is disconcerting, what with her lack of irises. “It won’t hurt. You can trust me.”

Buffy backs away.

“What won’t hurt?” she asks warily.

“Anything. Ever again. Life. Death. Heaven will take you back. This world isn’t worthy of you.”

“Gettin’ a little creepy here, Will.”

“I can take all of the pain away. Undo what I did. I brought you into Hell, Buffy. But you can go back. I promise. Let me do this for you.”

“We went over this, remember? Me—here? Glad? You, Dawn? Things to live for?”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to lie for me anymore. And you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Will!” Buffy says, slapping Willow’s hand away from her face. “What are you talking about?! I don’t want to die!”

“But you told me,” Willow says. She looks confused again. “You said. You said you wanted to leave me. You wanted to go back. You couldn’t—couldn’t stand pretending to want to be around me anymore.”

“I never said that!” Buffy says, aghast. “Will, when did I ever say that?!”

“Last night. You wouldn’t get into bed with me. You just sat at the end, and you talked, and you talked, and Buffy, it hurt—but I don’t blame you. I don’t want to live with me, either.”

“But I do! I never said that! Willow—I don’t know where this is coming from, but that wasn’t me.”

“Of course it was.” Willow says, frowning. “It was you! I know you!”

“Then you know that I would _never_ say that!”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t want to hurt you. My head hurts. Buffy…”

“Will. It’s okay. Please, come back to me. _Please_.”

Willow kneels at the side of the grave. “I don’t want you to go back,” she whispers.

“Good! Great! That makes two of us!”

“But you said—”

“I _didn’t_. It _wasn’t_ me.”

Cautiously, Buffy moves to stand next to Willow. Her coffin is there, the lid shattered, the lining torn. Unwanted memories shoulder their way to the surface: terror, terror, terror, _pain_. Fingernails tearing. God, she can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t, can’t, _can’t_ …

Buffy reaches out to touch Willow’s shoulder, and the terror dissipates. She’s here, and she’s real, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. It doesn’t hurt to be here.

“Come back to me, Will. I _know_ you can.”

“Buffy?”

“I’m right here.”

Willow looks up at her with tearful green eyes, and Buffy hauls her to her feet and into a hug as Willow sobs against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Willow says, again and again. “I’m sorry. _Goddess_ , I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Buffy says, stroking Willow’s hair. “It’s okay. I should have told you.”

“But you did! You did tell me!”

“And it’s not your fault you didn’t believe me. Sometimes I barely believe myself. But it’s true, okay? It’s true that I’m glad to be back. And it’s _true_ that I love you.”

“Why? Why would you love me when I’ve hurt you so much?”

“You’re good. You’re _good_ , okay? I love you because you’re good, and you’re strong, and you’re _brave_ , and you _care_ , and you’re _Willow_. I _love_ you.”

“I love you. I love you, too.”

“I know. Shh, it’s okay,” Buffy says, holding Willow even closer. “It’s okay.”

As Buffy holds Willow next to the grave she’d once had to dig herself out of, the first rays of sunlight creep over the trees and the gravestones, and Buffy feels very much glad to be alive.


	7. never leave me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains dialogue from the episode Never Leave Me.

Dawn is still asleep when Buffy and Willow get back to the house.

“You didn’t get a lost of rest last night,” Buffy says, concerned. “You should go back to sleep.”

“What about you?” Willow asks. “You didn’t get a lot of rest, either.”

“I’m okay,” Buffy assures her. “I’m used to it. I’m gonna call Xander in a bit; see if he wants to help fix up the mess that not-Mom made of the living room. You sleep. I’ll tell him you’re not feeling well.”

“I guess it’s not exactly a lie.”

“I guess not,” Buffy agrees. “Will?”

“Yeah?”

Buffy bites her lip. “I’m sorry. About last night. About—not coming in.”

“What do you mean?” Willow asks, frowning. “You were right there.”

“No. That’s what I’m saying. It wasn’t me. _All night_ , it wasn’t me. I went to my own room, because—because I thought I heard you talking to Tara.”

“Tara? Buffy, I wasn’t—it was you. I was talking to you.”

“But you said—you said that… you couldn’t be alone anymore.”

“I meant without you. I didn’t mean—you think I feel alone with you? Buffy, I can’t stand _not_ being around you. _That’s_ when I feel alone.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, relieved. She feels kind of silly. _Obviously_ that’s what Willow had been saying. “Good.”

“Not so good,” Willow corrects her. “Are we gonna talk about me and my new hallucinations? Kind of a sign of crazy. Can we… can we not tell the gang about it right away? I don’t want to scare them. I don’t even know what’s going on yet.”

“Yeah, of course. But Will—I don’t know what to do. I mean, I didn’t even see the thing you were talking to. Is there a spell you can do? To figure out if something is manipulating you?”

“Th-there is. But it takes a lot of energy, and some ingredients I don’t have.”

“I can get them for you,” Buffy offers. “Just tell me what.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go later. You’re right—I should rest.”

“I want to call Giles,” Buffy says. “I bet he’ll know something.”

“Okay,” Willow agrees reluctantly. “How are you gonna—I-I mean, it’s kind of weird.”

“I won’t tell him everything if you don’t want me to. Just that…” Buffy frowns. “You’re right. There’s really no easy way to say ‘Willow’s hallucinating me’, even on a Hellmouth.”

Willow laughs. The sound is weak, but comforting all the same. Buffy holds out a hand, and Willow takes it, allowing Buffy to lead her up the stairs.

“I’m glad it was you,” Willow says, as Buffy pulls the duvet up. “I mean—if I have to hallucinate someone. I’m glad it’s you.”

“Me too,” Buffy says.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Buffy says, and leans over to kiss Willow on the forehead. “It means you’re thinking about me. I kinda like that.”

She crosses the room and hits the light switch off; early morning sunlight streams in from under the blinds, making Willow’s hair glow like embers.

“I do, you know,” Willow says softly, as Buffy’s about to close the door. “Think about you.”

Buffy smiles.

—

Xander and Anya both agree to come over and help Buffy and Dawn clean up the disaster area that is 1630 Revello Drive’s living room.

“I remember when ghosts didn’t leave a mess,” Xander says, pulling a measuring tape from his pocket and holding it up to the window frame. The panes had shattered. “When they were just all, ‘oooooh, I float through walls and make spooky noises in the middle of the night.’”

“That wasn’t a ghost, Xander,” Anya says. “Those were the pipes in your basement ceiling. Although there might have been gremlins living in the septic tank. I think I heard one snicker once.”

“You tell me this _now_ ,” Xander says.

“It didn’t seem important at the time.”

“Is Willow okay?” Dawn asks Buffy. “I thought she was gonna help.”

“She’s okay. She wasn’t feeling very well this morning, but she’ll be down later. I told her to get some rest. Try to sleep it off.”

Dawn nods. “Okay.”

“Will’s not feeling well?” Xander asks. “That’s too bad. She’s missing out on all this fun.”

“Well I, for one, am happy she’s keeping herself to herself,” Anya says, gathering up candles and broken picture frames and re-placing them on the mantle. “I don’t want to catch whatever she has.”

“She’s not _contagious_ ,” Buffy says. “She’s just tired.”

“You say that now. But the next thing you know, she’s all dizzy and vomiting. Quarantine really is the best idea.”

“Should I go check on her?” Dawn asks, worriedly. “See if she needs anything?”

“No,” Buffy says. “Sweetheart, she’s fine. The best thing we can do for her is to let her rest.”

—

Buffy tries Giles’ home phone, and the number for the cell phone she’d convinced him to get, but he doesn’t pick up at either. Which is not in itself unusual, except that she tries six times over the course of three hours, and he’s still unreachable.

As a last resort, she calls the Watcher’s Council. Quentin Travers answers.

“Do you know where Giles is?” Buffy asks immediately.

“He isn’t here,” Travers says.

_Obviously._

“I need to find him as soon as possible. He’s not answering either of his numbers.”

“Miss Summers, the Watcher’s Council does not keep track of our lapsed employees. Ever since Mr. Giles pulled up his stake in Sunnydale, we’ve not made it our business to follow his every move.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to get all British and dodgy, Mr. Travers. I know you have ways of finding him.”

“Well,” Travers relents, “I suppose if you feel the matter’s urgent, we can look into it.”

“I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

—

Willow comes downstairs around lunchtime. Dawn’s assembling sandwiches in the kitchen and greets her happily.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Thanks, Dawnie. I just didn’t sleep well last night. Needed a little extra.”

“Bad dreams?” Dawn asks.

“Not as such.”

“Hey, Will,” Buffy says, touching her lightly on the shoulder as she passes by her. “Good to see you up and about. Are you gonna be okay to go out for those things?”

“Things?” Willow asks, frowning. “Oh! Things. _Those_ things. Yeah. I’ll go after I have something to eat.”

“Go where?” Dawns asks. “If you want a sandwich, there’s ham and peanut butter.”

“I just need some stuff from the magic shop. And I hope that’s ham, and peanut butter, separate.”

Dawn grins. “Don’t worry.”

Willow accepts a ham-no-peanut-butter sandwich and sits down at the kitchen table next to Dawn.

“Dawn, you wanna bring those out to Xander and Anya?” Buffy asks.

“Sure,” Dawn agrees, loading up sandwiches on a plate.

“Are _you_ okay?” Willow asks, as soon as Dawn’s left the kitchen. “I mean. Last night…”

“It’s fine,” Buffy says. “I know it’s not your fault. I just—I wanna figure out what’s going on. I tried phoning Giles, but I couldn’t get in touch with him. And Travers didn’t seem to know anything. That, or he’s being all elusive to annoy me. Either way, I think you should do this spell as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do it tonight,” Willow says. “But, Buffy—it will work better with a second person.”

“I can do it,” Buffy says immediately.

“You don’t even know what it involves.”

“That’s okay,” Buffy says, because it’s true. “I trust you.”

—

When Willow gets back, she isn’t alone.

“Oh, this can’t be good,” Xander says, looking over from the front of the room, where he’s installing the new window.

“Guess who was buying mass amounts of blood at the butcher’s shop.”

“Hey,” Andrew says to Willow, “your hair’s not even black anymore.”

“Andrew Wells,” Buffy says, crossing her arms at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you doing back in town?”

Andrew’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Good question,” Xander says, approaching. “What _are_ you doing back here? Didn’t you run off with your tail between your legs?”

“You’ll get nothing out of me, carpenter,” Andrew says defiantly.

“We’ll see about that.”

—

Buffy helps Xander and Anya tie Andrew to a chair in the living room before heading upstairs with Willow. As much as she wants to know what Andrew’s up to, she cares more about whatever’s messing with Willow.

The others will do fine. Xander might not be particularly threatening, but Anya was an avenging demon for centuries, and Dawn can stare down any man.

“How does this work?” Buffy asks, as Willow unloads spell ingredients onto the bedroom floor. “And why were you at the butcher’s shop, anyway?”

“This spell is called _sévérer les fils_.”

“Severe girls?” Buffy frowns.

“’Cut the threads’,” Willow says. “It’s a little like that trance you used to find out if someone had cast a spell on… on your mom. But instead of a trance, it’s more of an astral projection.”

“Hey,” Buffy says, “I’ve heard of this. Isn’t it like… you leave your body?”

“Yeah. It can be dangerous to do on your own. I need you to anchor me to my physical body.”

“Okay. Anchor. I can do that. And—what’s with the blood?”

“Blood represents life. I want to find out if something is manipulating mine. Pulling my strings, as it were.”

Buffy nods. “What do I do?”

Willow sits cross-legged on the ground and pats the carpet in front of her. “Sit.”

Buffy sits, and Willow places a bowl in the space between them. Buffy watches as Willow pours blood into the bowl, and then pulls a length of red thread from her bag.

“Can you light the candles?” Willow asks.

“Sure.”

As Buffy lights candles on either side of them, creating flickering lights in the darkened room, Willow unravels the thread.

“Is that magic thread?” Buffy asks curiously.

“Just the regular kind. I bought it from the craft store. This will act as… kind of a kite string.”

“And you’re the kite.”

“Yep.” Willow hesitates. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m _sure_ , Will. Whatever you need. I want to help.”

Willow nods. “Okay. Give me your right hand.”

Buffy holds out her hand, and Willow ties one end of the red string to her pinky finger before letting go and tying the other end to her own hand.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Willow says. “The most important thing is that no one moves my physical body while I’m, y’know. Not in it.”

“Got it. No moving Willow.”

“Are you ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

Willow holds out her hands, and Buffy takes them. The red thread hangs loosely between their entwined hands, over the bowl.

“Goddess Hecate, hear my words. Cut the threads that tie me here. Goddess Hecate, hear my words. Cut the threads that tie me here. Goddess Hecate, hear my words. Cut the threads that tie me—” Willow gasps, and then stills.

“Will?” Buffy says, concerned. But Willow doesn’t move. Her eyes are closed and she’s eerily motionless. _Is she breathing?_ Buffy tightens her grip on Willow’s hands, trying to feel a pulse.

It’s there, but just barely.

“Okay,” Buffy says aloud. “Kinda creepy.”

She wonders if Willow can hear her where she is.

“Will?” she says, just on the off chance. “Good luck.”

—

This anchoring thing isn’t quite what Buffy expected. She’d thought, you know, that it would involve a little… actual magic. On her part. Still, the holding-Willow’s-hands is nice.

Even if her hands are getting a little tired.

She wonders what Willow is seeing. She wonders how long it will take. Does “not too long” mean the same thing to Willow as it does it her?

And how does Willow get back anyway? _God_ , what if she gets stuck there, in astral-land? What would happen? Would she be a ghost? Would she need Buffy to pull her back? What would she have to do? She can’t move Willow, and she can’t cut the string—right? What would happen if she did? Would Willow die? What if she tried to save Willow, and ended up killing her? What if—

Willow eyes snap open.

“Will!” Buffy yelps.

“Buffy?”

“Are you okay? I was afraid of losing you. I thought—”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“What did you see?”

Willow gently tugs her fingers from Buffy’s grasp and wiggles them, trying to get the feeling back.

“Ooh, sorry,” Buffy says, wincing apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” Willow smiles. “You did good. I could feel you there the whole time. It was comforting.”

Buffy smiles back, relieved.

“So? The spell… did it work?”

“I-I don’t know. I didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing?”

“The only spell around me was this one.”

“So you didn’t learn anything at all?” Buffy asks, disappointed.

“Technically I learned one thing. If something was manipulating me, it wasn’t using magic.”

“Then—what?” Buffy asks.

“Some kind of demon?” Willow suggests. “A shape-shifter?” She sighs. “Either that, or my magic-addled brain is legitimately seeing things.”

“No,” Buffy says immediately. “Will, you’re not crazy. We’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.”

“We will,” Buffy insists. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Willow says. “I do.”

—

When the Bringers come for Andrew, Buffy realizes what they’re up against.

_From beneath you, it devours._


End file.
